


hanging bars, warm hearts

by indragram



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, also, and clarke is thirsty af, but it definitely happened, but when is she not?, its almost smut, lexa is working out, u don't really see them have sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:36:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3921457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indragram/pseuds/indragram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke walks in on Lexa working out and decides to take control of the situation</p>
            </blockquote>





	hanging bars, warm hearts

**Author's Note:**

> my first time writing anything that even vaguely resembles smut. so, uhh... :)  
> feel free to come over to my tumblr (indragram)
> 
> wrote this in like an hour, so un beta-d, so all mistakes are mine

The sight that meets her eyes when she storms into the war tent is not what Clarke had expected.

 

Not what she had expected at all.

 

Lexa is hanging from one of the the wooden beam which span the roof of the tent. Her back is facing the entrance, and she’s barely clothed. The Commander is simply wearing a wrapping around her chest, and her legs are clad in tight shorts that barely reach halfway down her toned thighs.

 

The blonde watches the rippling muscles, her jaw slack, as Lexa pulls herself up, gently touching her chin against the top half of the beam. Sweat drips down her exposed back, curling around the edges of the dark ink, tracing the gentle curve of her spine.

 

Clarke swallows heavily.

 

The Commander is absorbed in her exercise, so much so, that she doesn’t notice Clarke’s presence. At least, not until the blonde’s hands, cool from the night air they had been in only a minute before, begin tracing the intricate design across her spine.

 

Her grip falters slightly.

 

Muscles immediately tense, ready to drop from the beam to the floor below.

 

“No.”

 

Clarke’s tone leaves no room for argument, and Lexa finds herself obeying, fingers stretching on the beam, gripping it forcefully.

 

The blonde now has only a single finger pressing into the Commander’s sweat-slicked skin.

 

It’s a gentle pressure, barely there at all, but Lexa can’t feel anything but Clarke’s touch. Lexa’s arms are growing heavier, but she refuses to let go. She won’t be weak in front of Clarke.

 

The finger trails over her hip and onto her stomach.

 

Clarke is entirely focused on the path of her own finger over the Commander’s toned muscles. The abs twitch beneath her fingertip, and the blonde smirks.

 

“Don’t let go.” Her voice is deeper than Lexa has ever heard it be. It’s rougher too, husky and delicious, and the Commander is barely able to stop the shiver it encourages from letting itself be known to the blonde.

 

“Cla- _arke_.”

 

Lexa voice is ragged.

 

(Lexa _feels_ ragged.)

 

One finger becomes two hands, now firmly holding the Commander’s waist, thumbs pressing into the sharp jut of her hips.

 

“I figured,” The blonde begins, fingers splaying across Lexa’s lower back. “That since you’re so good at _giving_ -” The word is punctuated by a squeeze of the blonde’s hands, which makes Lexa’s breath catch in her throat. “orders, you should learn how to _take_ them.”

 

The only sound in the tent is their joint breathing, one heavier than the other.

 

“Don’t let go.”

 

Clarke leans forwards, and suddenly her warm breaths are against Lexa’s bare midriff.

 

Warm lips press softly against the central line of the brunette’s stomach muscles, and she gasps, body jerking forwards, wanting ( _needing_ ) more.

 

The blonde almost chuckles, but barely more than a heavy exhalation escapes.

 

“ _Steady_.” She teases. “Focus on holding on.”

 

More soft pecks are dotted around the exposed flesh of Lexa’s abs.

 

It’s tantalising.

 

It’s not enough.

 

Lexa groans.

 

Clarke’s hands venture upwards, teasing the underside of the Commander’s breasts.

 

Lexa’s arms are shaking with the physical exertion, she’s not sure how much longer she can hold on, but she needs to. She doesn’t want Clarke to stop, doesn’t want to give her a reason to.

 

Clarke places a kiss directly above the bindings. Her deft fingers begin to unwrap the material, and Lexa trembles.

 

“Clarke.” She whimpers, the word barely more than the sound of her lips tracing the air.

 

Clarke lets the material slip from the Commander’s hanging body to the floor, and leans into Lexa, pressing a kiss between her now fully exposed breasts.

 

Lexa isn’t sure how she’s supposed to be breathing, let alone hanging on to this god forsaken beam.

 

Clarke’s hands slip back down her body, slipping over her backside and coming to rest on the back of her thighs. The blonde guides Lexa’s legs around her, and the Commander sighs, relieved at the slight removal of exertion.

 

The blonde’s breasts are pressing into Lexa’s lower stomach.

 

Lexa realises that Clarke is still fully clothed, while the only thing keeping her from being fully exposed is her shorts.

 

The Commander’s train of thought is cut short by a warm mouth closing over her nipple. Her hands clench, and she can’t stop her hips from canting into the blonde.

 

She can feel the warmth of Clarke’s stomach through her thin shorts, so she knows that Clarke can almost definitely feel how much Lexa is enjoying herself.

 

Clarke moans, and Lexa does too, when the blonde’s tongue flicks at her already hard nipple. The brunette’s back arches, stretching. Lexa can feel the muscles in her shoulders burning.

 

She doesn’t care.

 

She needs more.

 

Clarke pulls back, and the cool air attacks Lexa’s wet breast.

 

She shudders.

 

“Clarke, please-”

 

The blonde smirks.

 

“Let go.”

 

Lexa does, her hands immediately falling to Clarke’s hair.

 

Clarke lowers the Commander until the brunette’s thighs are clenched around her hips, then tilts her head up.

 

Lexa surges forwards, connecting their lips frantically, her fingers twisting in the blonde’s hair, pulling her closer.

 

Clarke walks them to the bed, joined at the lips and the hips.

 

They fall onto the furs together, Lexa refusing to break for air, lest the blonde should pull away.

 

//

 

When Lexa wakes the next morning, her shoulders are stiff and aching, but the pain is forgotten moments later, when Clarke rolls over, flinging and arm over her waist and burying her face into the brunette’s bruised neck.

 

Lexa falls back asleep with a smile on her face and the image of a splintering wooden beam burned into her closed eyelids.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written smut so i didn't wanna go all out first time  
> was it good?


End file.
